


Checkers and Imagination

by ikkka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Board Games, Checkers, Daydreaming, Drinking, First Kiss, I do not blame him for I like suits too, Kirk likes suits, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Episode: s02e17 A Piece of the Action, Reminiscing, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21676921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkka/pseuds/ikkka
Summary: Spock teaches Kirk how to play checkers later on, after the USS Enterprise leaves Sigma Iotia II. Kirk reminisces and daydreams of the planet--and his and Spock's adventures on it--throughout. Kirk also uses Spock's inevitable inquiries as to why Kirk keeps staring at him as an opportunity to make a move on him. It goes rather well, Kirk thinks.Alternate title: Kirk doesn't know how to stop checking Spock out and Spock is starting to pick up on it more.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Comments: 9
Kudos: 111





	Checkers and Imagination

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Star Trek fanfiction. I'm not caught up on TOS or Star Trek itself yet, so apologizes if Kirk not knowing what Checkers is goes against some offhand comment made in canon or something lol. I tried my best to make this in character to how Spock and Kirk are in TOS, and especially how they are in this episode, but apologies if it is not accurate!
> 
> Also, the information in this fanfiction about the episode its based on is correct! I outlined this and wrote the major episode-plot-like lines directly after watching the episode. So, for example, when Spock says that Kirk said something on the planet, he actually did in the episode :)
> 
> I do want to point out that this fanfiction assumes Spock and Kirk are interested in each other romantically prior to the start of season 2, or at the very very least before episode 17. I tried to make this as true to canon as possible, but the whole nature of it isn't true to canon, so my apologies if that irks anyone.
> 
> The relationship is tagged as ambiguous because I did not write this with whether or not their relationship was pre-established or not in my mind, and it came to bite me in the ass later hah. But this is definitely Spirk.
> 
> Regardless, a monologue of a beginning note aside, this is my attempt at writing Spirk! Enjoy!

Captain Kirk, while waiting for Spock to appear to their regularly scheduled chess match, reminisced.

Of Sigma Iotia II, specifically. The whole planet had been a wild adventure, one of greater wilderness than the usual ‘alien planet with alien threat needs alien solution’ missions the Enterprise has had, as of late. It was refreshing--even if confusing at first--and most of all, it was absurd. Kirk found most of his favourite memories of the Enterprise, and by proxy, Spock and McCoy, to be made while on the most wacky and silly of missions.

Adopting a gangster persona and living through a time many of his ancestors were obsessed with alongside Spock, imperturbable and indifferential Spock, was its own wild ride and a half. Kirk meant that both metaphorically, when thinking of Spock trying to mimic his bumbling Chicago mobster improv, and literally, when thinking of his subpar driving. Kirk still found Spock’s appalled reaction to his stuttering driving comical. In fact, Kirk still found Sigma Iotia II’s whole society quite comical; how they had built everything they knew and believed in around a forgotten old book, and how Kirk and company could enjoy its laughability while the Iotians took everything so seriously and stern. After all, it was all they knew. If it had been any other society they assumed, Kirk thought, it wouldn’t have been so funny to him.

Besides, Kirk dismissed, he obtained some new knowledge while down on Sigma Iotia II. He learned the reason why nobody drove cars in the 23rd century anymore. He learned that aesthetics can sometimes be equally as important as effectivity, and that you don’t have to sacrifice one for the other, if you try hard enough. Though, at the end, Kirk learned the most important thing of all.

Spock looked real good in a suit.

Okay, maybe Kirk had a little bit  _ too _ much fun down on Sigma Iotia II. He had to admit, he was quick to pick up the  _ lingo _ and he did, indeed, rather enjoy donning the attire and fitting in with the populace. Especially since he got to do so with Spock. Spock seemed reluctant through it all, but the whole thing was pretty illogical, Kirk gave him that. ‘Spocko’ caught on quite quickly as well, though.

It still spur a chuckle from Kirk: that nickname he haphazardly called Spock back down there. Tall and lean Spocko, back straight and suit flush, arms to his sides and hands behind his back; his aura domineering, but never cocky, and his stance intelligent in more ways than one. Paired to match with Mister James T. Kirk, boss and leader, his blue to his brown and burgundy, and his brawl to his brains. That spurred a lot more than a chuckle from Kirk. That deserved a full fledged laugh.

Kirk was snapped out of his daydreaming haze by a familiar voice calling him.

“Captain, what are you doing?”

Kirk looked up from the drink he was unintentionally staring down at, meeting Spock’s strong, but not judgemental, gaze. It dawned on him that a man laughing into his drink by himself appeared a bit strange. He fixed his posture; straightening his back, rolling his shoulders and sitting flush against the chair.

“Ah, I’m reminiscing, Spock.”

“Indulging in enjoyable recollection of past events,” Spock mused to himself, pulling out the chair opposite to Kirk and sitting down. “Am I correct, that you are reminiscing about our actions on Sigma Iotia II?”

Kirk nodded almost wistfully, “Yes. You’re very literal.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Spock lifted a checkered board from his lap and onto the table. Kirk looked at it, then looked back up at Spock with an eyebrow cocked and a look of confusion.

“This isn’t tri-D.”

“No, it is not. It functions similarly, though.” Spock picked up the bag of game pieces from off the middle of the board and opened it, letting little circular chips cascade onto the board.

“This,” He gestured minutely, “is  _ Checkers _ .”

Kirk’s mouth fell open slightly. He raised his head, but kept his eyes on Spock.

“Oh,” He gasped. Then he nodded.

“I don’t know what that is.”

Spock was quick to define. “Checkers is a game from Earth, recognized to have existed as far back as 3000 BC.” Spock, while he talked, focused on arranging the game pieces to their correct starting positions. “It is a simplified, almost infantile version of two-dimensional chess. Its popularity died down around approximately 2035, and ever since tri-dimensional chess was invented and spread in its fame, checkers became a game of the past.”

Kirk put his right hand on his chin, leaning against his elbow.

“Ah,” was all he said.

Spock looked back up at him, putting the final game pieces into place.

“Sigma Iotia II based its entire culture and society off of a book about gangsters from the 1920s. I thought, in tribute to our exposure to a past Terran time, you would appreciate a past Terran game.”

When Kirk was slow to respond, Spock also chimed in, “especially because you seemed to be getting  _ bored _ of tri-dimensional chess. This is a change from the usual.”

“Me? Bored?” Kirk scoffed playfully, flicking the wrist that was holding his chin as a wave of the hand. “Never.”

Spock merely raised his eyebrow, as he always does. When no further response came, Kirk rubbed his hands together before (gently) slamming them down onto the table.

“Alright,  _ Spocko _ , teach me how to play checkers.”

Spock clasped his hands together, gently massaging the back of his knuckles. It wasn’t exactly in the same way Kirk had seen him do in the past, before mind-melding with someone (or something, in some cases); but he did knead the bones through his hands with focus and intent--as if a fidget--while the gears in that long, Vulcan head of his turned and clicked.

“I think it is best to teach this game through experience.” Spock finally said. He interacted with the game pieces as he began to list them.

“My pieces are white. Your pieces are black. Unlike chess, each piece operates the same. At the beginning there are no classes. To start, I shall move my second most-left piece one space diagonally to the right.”

Kirk nodded. Smartly inferring that it was now his turn, he picked up one of his game pieces and lifted it one space forward.

“You cannot do that, Captain.”

Kirk shot him a quizzical look. “Huh?”

Spock picked up his piece and undid the move.

“You can only move your pieces diagonally.”

“Huh,” Kirk hummed. Kirk retried his move, instead moving one space diagonally. “Okay.”

“To counter, I shall move this piece diagonally to the left.”

Spock picked up his piece, placed it behind Kirk’s moved piece, and removed Kirk’s piece from the board, beginning a pile near his being.

Kirk went to speak, but stopped himself. His mouth hung open until he realized and closed it, pressing his lips together in a thin line.

“I take it you’ve captured one of my pieces.”

Spock looked at him with a stoic expression. “I captured your piece,” He confirmed.

Kirk sighed. He was peeved; but he accepted his first defeat, even if said defeat was so minor.

“You’re very literal.” Kirk repeated, though in a different, more statement-esque tone compared to the earlier musing.

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock mirrored, “though I believe you have already said that.”

Kirk laughed, airy and lighthearted. “Well,” he announced, “maybe I like repetition.” He moved his piece to capture Spock’s in retaliation, intent playful.

Spock was unfazed. He merely spoke, “That there, essentially, is how you play checkers.”

\---

It took three games (and Spock winning all three of them) before Kirk’s mind drifted from the game back to his earlier thoughts. At some point Spock had introduced the ‘King pieces’ aspect of checkers, but Kirk found that all the games of checkers were starting to blur together. Realizing the silence of checkers without conversation, Kirk cleared his throat. It was as if the sound never existed, mere seconds after it had. Then it dawned on him that he was simply bored.

To fill the silence, Kirk decided to voice some of his pre-game thinking.

“You know,” He began, “it’s amazing how something so small and insignificant to us, like leaving behind a book on a planet, can make such large and significant changes to said planet.”

Spock looked up from the checkerboard, and Kirk would’ve said he almost looked perplexed, if he hadn’t known any better.

“I would hardly call that small and insignificant, Captain.”

Kirk simpered in response, “Yes, Spock, that’s why I then said it caused large and significant changes later on in the sentence. It disproves my previous statement.”

He knocked back the last bit of his drink, and Spock made his move, capturing a black piece for the billionth time, it felt like.

“At all stating that leaving behind a book on a planet--of which you yourself described as creative and imitative--is small and insignificant, is simply untrue.”

Kirk sighed, mannerisms laced with sarcasm, but he smiled regardless. Spock puts up with too much of him, Kirk thinks to himself.

“Of course it’s untrue. Let me rephrase; what I’m saying is, I’m sure the Horizon didn’t think much of it, but look at the changes they caused because of something they so easily overlooked.”

Spock hummed at that. Kirk smiled a bit more blissfully than before.

“I suppose that statement is correct,” Spock begrudged (unemotionally, of course), “You cannot say it as a fact, however.”

“But is it logical?” Kirk asked. When Spock didn’t answer right away, he continued, “To assume that the Horizon didn’t think much of it?”

Spock thought for a moment longer, winning their current game in the meantime. Eventually, he decided.

“Yes, it is. I doubt they had much time to think of anything of that nature, however, before they went missing.”

Kirk went silent for a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We never really did find out where they went, huh.”

“No,” Spock confirmed. “We did not.”

The board was reset, and Kirk went first this time.

Kirk stretched his arms out in front of him after his turn, folding his fingers together to stretch them as well.

“To break the solemn mood,” He mused, stifling a chuckle as he spoke, “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you in a suit.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. He was computing a response. Kirk waited, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yes...” He eventually verbalized. “I have not worn a suit before then.”

Kirk eyed Spock while Spock eyed the board. Strategizing his next move, no doubt. Kirk was picking up the strategy required for the game fast.

He could see it now, Kirk continued to muse to himself. His imagination could replace Spock’s Enterprise uniform with the suit he had worn back on Sigma Iotia II with ease. When Spock moved his arm to hover over his game pieces, Kirk could imagine every crinkle of the fabric, and every way the thin stripes warped with the movement. When Kirk looked up at Spock’s face he took in every line on his brow; the deep, intense stare Spock always had when deep in thought, and, if Spock was wearing the hat he was on Sigma Iotia II, how the lighting in the very room they were in would cast a shadow over his face. He could imagine the silhouette of the shadow looming over his face. When Spock looked up to meet Kirk’s survey of him, Kirk could imagine how his eyes would peek from the shadow, glistening the tiniest bit from the fluorescent lights and how they were positioned in the room.

“Captain, why are you staring at me?”

Kirk shook out of his trance-like state.

“Oh,” He vocalized, just to get a sound out. “Just lost in thought.”

Spock said nothing, but Kirk knew he acknowledged. “Well, it is your turn.”

“Ah.”

Kirk moved his game piece without thought. Spock watched him conduct his turn, and when it was over, he characteristically raised his eyebrow and looked back up at Kirk again.

“That is the most illogical move you have played yet.” He almost sounded bewildered--no,  _ baffled _ \--Kirk noted.

Kirk watched with undecipherable emotions as Spock captured not only one, nor two, but  _ three _ of his game pieces in one fell swoop.

Spock hummed again, but this hum was different than the previous one before. The hum still seemed to be one of content, but Kirk couldn’t exactly place it.

“Are you still interested in playing?” Spock asked bluntly.

Kirk genuinely thought about that for a moment. He was distracted, he couldn’t deny it. Lost in thought, brain easily latching onto any fleeting sentence or image he conjured up, and playing it out with little regard to how the game was going. Kirk knew how much Spock focused on the game, even if this regular time they had together was more for out-of-duty socialization than an actual competitive tournament. He imagined that Spock might be frustrated with how Kirk was performing the game. Ah, no, not frustrated. Frustration is a human emotion, Kirk corrected. He exhaled a chuckle.

Spock sat there, waiting for an answer. Kirk looked back up at him, and cursed himself mentally. Well, guess he proved his point to himself. He knew though, that if he ended the game, Spock would retire to his quarters. They wouldn’t socialize again until duty called. Kirk knew immediately that he did not want that, but he didn’t know how to precisely voice it.

He let out a soft  _ hm _ , barely audible, still and thinking. Spock set his hands down onto the table, folding them together. He was a patient man, Kirk acknowledged. Though, because Spock hadn’t taken his silence for a definitive answer and hadn’t packed up and left yet, he assumed Spock at least  _ kind of _ reciprocated his feelings of wanting to stick around. Was Spock picking up his indecisiveness? Though, Kirk was about 70% sure his entire thought process was being broadcasted in text right over his forehead, he knew how much Spock could read and understand him by how he carried himself alone.

Then, Kirk had a thought that was actually relevant to the question Spock had asked him.

“Grab another drink with me?” He asked, raising his empty glass slightly off the table for emphasis.

Spock eyed Kirk for a moment, then the glass in his hand. His eyes fell to the board again, and then met Kirk in a full circle.

“Okay.”

They both got up from the table. Kirk knew there was a food synthesizer that would make the drinks just fine across the room, but he instead made a split second decision to lead Spock to his quarters. He set on his path, and turned around when he noticed Spock wasn’t following him.

“Captain, there is a food synthesizer in this room.” He stated blankly. Kirk then knew it was foolish to ever think Spock would just follow when there was a clear, easy and  _ logical  _ solution nearby.

“Oh, I know,” He stated back, leaning against the wall closest to him. “That’d be too easy, though.”

Kirk read Spock’s confusion almost instantly.

“The whole point of the food synthesizer is to make food and drink accessible and  _ easy _ ,” Spock spoke out slowly, “Why... would you want to make your food and drink  _ harder _ to obtain?”

“Spock.” Kirk said with a smile, pure yet bordering mischievous. “Me asking you to drink with me is a tactic to lure you out of this room. Will you please come?”

Kirk watched as Spock went through five different trains of thought all at once, before settling on, “but Captain, the checkerboard.”

“If you want, you can bring it with you, but I do not want to play checkers anymore.”

Spock paused to think again. Kirk shifted his weight from one leg to the other, rubbing his arm against the wall slightly in the process.

Eventually, Spock decided, “I can come back later and pick it up,” and with that, Kirk got Spock to follow.

\---

Kirk led him to his quarters. Once he was inside, pouring him and Spock a drink into fancy vodka glasses with sharp edges that reflective rainbows at the right angles, it officially dawned on him that he had successfully gotten Spock into his room. Though, he was sure if he had directly asked Spock to come to his room in the first place, he would’ve; but that would’ve been too easy, was Kirk’s excuse. The real reason was that he didn’t want to be so direct. It wasn't as suave.

He lifted one now-full vodka glass to Spock.

“Indulge me, will you?”

Spock nodded, taking the glass still left on the table with one hand and pulling out a nearby chair in front of Kirk's desk with the other. Kirk sat down on the actual desk, and he took his first sip of the drink.

“Vulcans do not feel the effects of alcohol.” Spock brought up once he was situated.

“I’m not trying to get you drunk,” Kirk laughed, “I’m trying to have a drink with you.”

Spock cupped his glass with both hands.

“You are successfully having a drink with me; you are beyond trying, at this point.”

Kirk laughed again, gentle and smooth.

“Good,” He sighed contently, “good.”

Silence fell for a little, then. The slight intimacy of having Spock drinking with him in his room lead Kirk’s mind to think itself back to the suit, and he tried imagining Spock in it now. The natural dimmer lighting of his quarters compared to the recreational room made the brown in Spock’s hypothetical suit more saturated. The shadow his hat cast hid the majority of his face. He was looking down at his drink, and Kirk could imagine the cuffs of his suit at his wrists. He could see down them, but they’d cast such a strong shadow on his two forearms that the shadow would be all he could see.

Kirk took another sip of his drink and directed his attention to Spock’s chest. In his Enterprise uniform, the silhouette of his chest was defined, and he imagined his chest would be similarly defined in a suit. He could envision the smoothness of the front, save for the almost neon red tie making a slight bump. He could imagine how the fabric would flow downwards, crinkling at Spock’s waist and hips, then cutting off naturally at the jacket’s end. The uniform pants were already similar to dress pants in general, so little was left to the imagination there, except for a color and pattern change. What did change was the cuffs of the pants, for the suit pants would go all the way to his ankles. Kirk never got a decent look at Spock’s shoes while down on Sigma Iotia II. He imagined, though, a standard pair of dress shoes for that time period, with maybe a little bit of an abnormal heel to fit better with their uniform boots.

Kirk redirected his eyes from Spock’s legs back up to his face, and Spock locked onto his gaze. Kirk’s breathing hitched slightly, but continued as normal shortly after. Spock probably caught it, he thought. Kirk played it cool. Just in case.

“You are staring at me again.” Spock deadpanned. He didn’t sound offended by any means; in fact, he sounded like he was stating the circumference of the closest sun instead of calling Kirk out on what he knew was inappropriate behavior.

Kirk didn’t quite know how to respond, so he just took another sip of his drink and murmured dryly, “Sorry.”

“An apology requires me to feel offended, or to feel as if you have made a mistake, in some shape or form,” Spock stated, factual yet fluffed. “Vulcans do not feel offense, and you have not made a mistake. There is no apology needed.”

Kirk was slow to respond, but he simply nodded, noting in the back of his mind that Spock directly implied staring him up and down was not a mistake. He knocked the rest of his drink back in three gulps. The alcohol burned his throat, but it wasn’t overpowering nor uncomfortable.

Spock filled the silence. "Were you ‘lost in thought’ again?”

Kirk snapped to look at Spock, his own eyebrow raised this time. “Wow, is that a colloquialism I hear? From you?” He asked with feigned shock.

Spock raised both of his eyebrows to react, before coolly responding, “I was merely quoting you, Captain. From earlier.”

“Ah, yes, of course,” Kirk lulled, sarcasm dripping off the sentence as he spoke it. He was smiling, though. He immediately poured himself another drink. Then he swiftly added over top the glugging of the alcohol, “You’re in my quarters outside of duty. You can drop the Captain.”

Spock nodded. “Okay, Jim.” He took his first official sip of his own drink.

“May I ask what you were thinking about?”

Kirk responded a little more quickly and coldly than he should have.

“Why?”

“Merely a conversation starter,” Spock was fast to assure. He breathed, before continuing, “If you do not want to speak about your thoughts, we do not have to.”

Kirk laughed more stiffly than he had wanted to. He tried to think of how to word ‘oh, yes Spock, I was imagining you in the suit we stole off those two gangsters on Sigma Iotia II, and you looked very good in it, by the way.’

He decided to start his response with simply, “I was reminiscing.”

“Of Sigma Iotia II?” Spock inquired.

“Of Sigma Iotia II.” Kirk verified.

Kirk knew he was just repeating information he told Spock earlier. He wasn't opposed to giving out more, explaining the more platonic parts of his daydreaming, but he wasn't too sure on how to start it. Spock hummed again; a soft, thoughtful hum. Kirk was grateful when Spock filled in with a prompt that could get him rolling.

“You seemed to find great enjoyment out of adopting their culture to blend in,” Spock sparked.

Kirk noticed his face beginning to feel warm, but he wasn’t sure whether it was from Spock talking about him or the third drink he just pounded back. Kirk set his now empty glass down. He was not going to have another.

“It was fun, what can I say?” Kirk smiled rather fondly in Spock's direction, "No wonder many humans were obsessed with organized crime syndicates back in the 20th and 21st century on Earth. It was fun to dress like them, talk like them,  _ be like  _ them."

Spock nodded, though Kirk picked up that it was a slower nod than usual.

“I am unsure as to how the male Iotians can wear those uniforms on a regular basis. They are slightly uncomfortable, and impractical for the combat they routinely engaged in.”

“Uncomfortable?” Kirk asked innocently enough.

“The jacket was too tight on me, and did not fit properly. I had limited arm movement due to the fabric at my shoulders being taut.”

“You’ve just never worn a suit that's been tailored specifically for you.” Kirk dismissed. “The suits down there were made of quality fabric. Think the one guy said they were expensive. You get one of those made for you, and you’ll demand a refund if it’s uncomfortable.”

Kirk realized how authoritarian that sounded right after it came out of his mouth, and no sooner. He watched as Spock took another sip of his drink. He was slow and methodical. He was thinking.

“I do not see why I would ever need a suit.” Spock eventually decided to say.

“Well, why not?" Kirk asked. Spock took another sip; buying time to think, Kirk concluded. Kirk took the opportunity of silence to shift his weight on the desk and lean backwards, propping himself up on his elbows. He turned his front so that he could still face and converse with Spock.

Spock's grip on his drink tightened a little bit.

"I have very little need for civilian clothing, let alone civilian clothing I can only wear at formal attendances. Most, if not all, of the formal events I attend are for my service in Starfleet and the Enterprise, which I attend wearing the Starfleet formal uniform."

Kirk thought of how he could direct this conversation. While in thought, Spock stood up from his seat. He gingerly set his glass down on the desk.

"What about visiting family?" He asked. Quickly remembering his relationship with his father, he added, "Your mother?"

"I do not visit them often." Spock sounded more somber than Kirk wanted him to. He stood up, matching Spock's stiff stance. "And, when I do, I wear traditional Vulcan formal wear."

Kirk wanted to comment more--to bring up how Spock's mother was human, and would appreciate the human gesture--but the last thing he wanted to do was bring up a touchy subject and ruin the moment. Instead, Kirk took a deep breath. It was shaky.

"You look like you're going to leave." Kirk said.

Spock didn't move. "I was planning to."

Kirk took a step forward, innocent enough. He stretched out his hand to the surface of the desk, dancing his fingers against it. Spock didn't break the eye contact. Kirk didn't either.

"Do you  _ want _ to leave?"

Spock's breathing hitched, only a short second before he regained control.  _ I am in control of my emotions _ , Kirk could almost  _ hear him _ repeating his mantra to himself. It was charming, Kirk acknowledged. When he tilted his head slightly and gave Spock a glint of many meanings, Spock swallowed and spoke hesitantly.

"No." Was his eventual answer.

Kirk hadn't wanted to be so direct, but it was too late now. Gently and slowly, he raised his hand on the desk into the air at chest height, facing his palm to Spock. Spock's eyes flickered to the hand, then back to Kirk's eyes on an inhale.

"Then you don't have to."

Spock tentatively raised his own hand and touched the pads of his fingers against Kirk’s, a stinging surge of  _ feeling _ coursing through their contact that Kirk was 100% sure was mutual. Kirk knew he was radiating his affection right off of him, and through the subtle twitches on Spock’s face while he processed all the various sensations Kirk was introducing to him, there only came even more.

Spock hummed, so faint Kirk could barely pick it up; but with Kirk so close to him, he could hear it from his mouth and  _ feel _ it through their joined hands. It was a hum of pure, unadulterated content. Kirk wasn’t dumb. He knew Spock had feelings. He knew he felt them just like he did, but he also knew that Spock would never acknowledge them like he did.

Kirk inhaled, then exhaled, grounding himself. He was sure Spock could already feel his intentions before Kirk voiced them.

“Can I kiss you?” Kirk asked.

Spock nodded.

Kirk stepped closer, leaving mere inches of room between his chest and Spock’s, and he kissed him.

It wasn’t long, nor complex. Just a gentle, simple kiss. When Kirk pulled back, he was sure he was giving Spock the biggest look of pure  _ adoration _ he has probably ever seen. He could certainly feel Spock returning it twofold, when Spock adjusted his index and middle fingers to press them together, and then press them against his own. The new surge of  _ emotion _ coming from Spock sent shivers down Kirk’s spine, and he reveled in it.

“Well,” Kirk started, smiling, lacing his fingers between Spock’s. “In any case, we need to get you a suit.”

Spock’s breathing, Kirk noted, was the tiniest bit more rugged than normal.

“You seem to like suits.” Spock’s voice was just above a whisper.

It dawned on Kirk that Spock had probably received all of his stylish imaginations. Kirk chuckled, grinning wide and pure.

“Especially if they’re on you.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anybody has any suggestions for how I can improve, I'm open to criticism! Thank you for reading if you got this far!


End file.
